Scales and Solitude
by hbananad
Summary: ... And the loosing thereof. A prequel to 'Something Fishy,' Merperson AU. Matthew's lonely and Gilbert's lost - breaking the rules never seemed so important. PruCan, Implied GerIta, Russia/America, and Rome/Germania. Lengthy oneshot, human names used.


This is a prequel to my Spamano oneshot 'Something Fishy.' Both can be read and enjoyed without reading the other, but I recommend reading both for clarity and possibly some references that don't make as much sense on their own.

I apologize in advance for the rather odd changes in tone here. I didn't mean to. I wrote most of it when I was sick.

I also apologize for the seemingly-random switches between metric and US standard units of measurement. I'm an American, so I grew up using the (silly) US units, but I've temporarily lived in both France and Italy and go to a math/science school, so I prefer metric. But - to be frank - I suck at estimating degrees in Celsius. And sometimes I just need to use 'a couple feet.' It sounds more right to me, having grown up with people talking like that.

As usual, translations and some of the details on why I made certain choices can be found at the bottom.

My grandmother translated the German for me, I did most of the French on my own (with grammar help from my dad), and the Latin and Italian are also mine. In all of the above cases, English is our first language - so what I'm trying to say is that these may not necessarily be one hundred percent correct. If you spot a mistake, please mention it. (This goes for everything. Typos suck, but don't hesitate to point them out.)

**Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine.**

***#Scales and Solitude – And the Loosing Thereof#***

The ocean was quiet again today. Calmer than it had been a week ago. The few days of pleasant weather that the coast had seen were nice. Perhaps it would last the summer.

Fat chance, though. There would always be storms willing to crash along the beach, winds ready to reach through and tear at the few trees that were scattered along the shore. The perfection never lasted. But one could always hope that at least most of the summer would be nice before the coastline was once again plagued by winter weather.

Matthew Williams was enjoying the nice weather, lazily draped over the hammock nestled between the only two trees in the backyard of his small cottage. He certainly had a lot more open space than he did house, but only a portion of it was fenced in and labeled as 'his yard.' Somehow, even after living here for the past five years and visiting countless times before Grandfather Gaul had passed away, a lot of the land had never really felt like it belonged to him, his grandfather, or any other... human, maybe. The cottage was located on a small cliff overlooking a rocky beach, several miles from Nice and any surrounding civilization. Sometimes he felt it was the last bit of untouched wilderness on the entire French coastline, something that saddened him slightly.

Matthew, though fluent in the language, was not French. He was Canadian (and often teased when he went into town to buy groceries by the clerk at the store for his apparently amusing and awful accent), originally from the more southern end of Quebec. The heat of southern France was not necessarily something he'd grown up with, but something he'd come to accept (he'd spent almost every other year here as a child, at his grandfather's request, and living in a place for five years will generally adapt you to the climate). He still preferred the cold of winter, but summer wasn't necessarily bad. For one thing, it meant he didn't have to take his poor horse all the way to town as it was summer break and therefore he didn't have to teach. Teaching English was easy, it was getting people to learn that was the pain.

This weather though, was a beautiful in-between of winter and summer. It was, Matthew decided, how spring should be. Spring should not be a mess of undecided hot and cold, rain and sun, wind and calm. Spring should just be a balance.

Deciding to enjoy it while it lasted, he got out of his comfy canvas perch and retrieved the book his step-brother had sent him (_"Seriously, Matt, you'll like it, I promise! There's heroes and damsels in distress and absolutely no mention of Russian bastards!"_ The letter had been slightly confusing, but all that Matthew could really pull from it was that Alfred and Ivan were in an 'off' phase of their on-again-off-again relationship. He predicted it would blow over within a month, when he would receive slightly stale cookies the two of them had baked together and a letter that was much mushier than the one that accompanied the book. Seriously, he didn't bother trying to understand anymore, he just went with it.). Unusually for one of Alfred's selections, it was actually quite good.

He stopped in the cottage for a moment to retrieve a blanket to sit on, then stepped outside once again and started down the narrow dirt path to the pebbly beach.

***##***

Gilbert was lost.

Normally, he would never admit that the awesome him could get lost, but he had already been in unfamiliar waters when he'd wandered off 'to find more awesome people than you, West.'

Yeah. People. That'd be nice about now. He probably wouldn't even mind if they were his stick-in-the-mud brother, or his stick-in-the-mud brother's dizty fiancé. At this point, he would still mind if it was his stick-in-the-mud brother's ditzy fiancé's loud and obnoxious twin, but his point remained.

Why had he agreed to go on the trip anyway?

Oh, yeah, that's right. Gramps had 'requested' it. It's not like he needed to be there, it was an arranged marriage for goodness sake! (Really, it was awesome that West's fiancé had turned out to not only be fairly awesome but also quite an adorable match for his brother, but that didn't make the talks any less boring.) Yeah, West and the younger Vargas had hit it off and seemed totally in love with each other, but that didn't necessarily mean they would get to be together unless things worked out.

And somehow, Gilbert was quite sure they wouldn't with him there.

So after taking the magic, swirly whirlpool that only the Sea Lords had the right to summon from the chilly waters off the coast of northern Germany to the much, much warmer waters of the Bay of Naples, he'd stuck around for a few un-awesome talks and then taken his leave.

He'd left a note, of course, but that probably hadn't helped anyone since even he wasn't sure where he was going.

Perhaps it was for the best. Really, he didn't want to rule the North Sea. West would certainly do a much more awesome job at it than he would, he freely admitted that. He sucked at politics. Military strategy he could work with, but left with only words he tended to talk himself into a corner.

So now he was un-awesomely lost, only really aware that he was near the coast of somewhere.

Oh, well. This was turning out to be quite a nice adventure.

But even awesome people like Gilbert had to rest occasionally, and so as the sun set he made his way toward a bit of coastline that looked to be entirely uninhabited (a rarity nowadays). Without a building, and especially without others around, he couldn't afford to sleep in the deep seas. Honestly, he shouldn't be so close to the surface either, but no one was here and he was tired. Screw the rules, no one was going to find him.

***##***

Saturday morning found Matthew up unusually early. He'd risen before the sun, for no reason he could get a hold on in his mind, and decided that perhaps it would be a lovely idea to go down to the beach and watch the sun rise over the water.

So he made himself some of the tea Alfred's cousin seemed so fond of sending to him and walked down to the rocky beach.

***##***

Years of habit woke Gilbert as the sun rose. Stretching himself out, he twisted into several awkward-looking positions before finally the soreness mostly left his muscles. He'd swum for quite a long time in the past few days, perhaps he needed to take a day off before continuing his adventure.

"Kumaharo, quit it, eh!"

Startled, he flicked his tail and ended up shooting straight into a large rock. "Owww... so not awesome..." Slightly irritated now, but suddenly brimming with curiosity, he cautiously maneuvered around the rock so that he could see who was yelling without being seen. Glancing around the corner of the stone with his good eye, he was surprised to see a large white fluffy... thing on the beach with a blond human. The human didn't sound so much angry as used to these things happening and merely irritated at the thing as it nearly shoved him off the blanket he was sitting on. Huffing (quite cutely, too, Gilbert couldn't help but notice), the human shoved back half-heartedly at the white creature before simply leaning against it and staring out to the ocean while his new back-rest fell asleep. "You've gotten far too big to keep stealing parts of my blanket, Kumakatchi."

Gilbert was left with a few questions as he quietly (and awesomely!) observed this strange interaction.

Why had the human called the thing two different names?

What was the fluffy thing anyway? It was obviously alive, but he hadn't ever seen anything like it before when he ventured near land.

What was the human's name? What was he like?

... And just where the hell had those last two questions come from?

Grumbling, Gilbert decided to stick around for a while and see what the human was like. He seemed interesting, talking to a large creature and laying over it like this was normal (and maybe it was, he didn't know any humans).

This could be an awesome way to waste a few days. Maybe he could even figure out where the hell he was. The human was speaking English, but that could mean anything. He was pretty sure he wasn't near England, and anyway, that accent was unusual.

Settling himself more comfortably near the rock, Gilbert watched.

***##***

For a few days after the odd day he'd gotten up and watched the sun rise, Matthew was dimly aware that something was off. He couldn't place it, though, so he ignored it and continued to enjoy his vacation. Of course, he worked some, making lesson plans and such, but he spent a lot of time by the beach. The beautiful weather hadn't broken yet, and he was hoping it wouldn't for a while. He normally didn't spend this much time by the water, but it had seemed strangely alluring lately. Another feeling he couldn't place.

On the fifth day, it started to rain lightly. Not a heavy rain, but a gentle, steady misting. The kind of rain that could and would go on for hours or days, never wavering. Matthew liked that kind of rain. It was soothing, to fall asleep with the sound of the droplets pattering on his roof and against his windows.

He wasn't sure why he decided to go down to the ocean that day. Years later he'd look back and call it fate, but for now, he simply went. As usual, he brought his blanket, though this time he took with him an umbrella to keep most of the damp off (liking the rain didn't necessarily equate to wishing to be soaked). Kumagora didn't follow him this time, too busy sleeping in the kitchen. Sometimes Matthew was certain all the bear ever did was sleep, but that couldn't be true because he slept in different places. So he had to have woken up to move at some point, right?

When he reached the pebbled shore, he quickly set up the umbrella with the ease of one who has a lot of practice with a particularly cantankerous piece of equipment (that is to say, it worked eventually for him, but no one else was quite certain why he kept it around or indeed how to open it in the first place, much less secure it), and laid his blanket down on the rocks to keep the wet from soaking through his pants.

***##***

Gilbert watched as the human came down from the dwelling on the cliff-side. It had been a day or so since he'd come to the beach, and he was beginning to believe that humans (or at least this particular one) were somehow allergic to the rain. Still, he watched in fascination as the blond set up an odd-looking... portable roof thing, and spread the blanket before once again sitting down and watching the ocean.

He wondered if he should warn the boy that a storm was going to come, but remembered the rules just in time.

Never before had 'Do not let yourself be known to humans' sounded so un-awesome.

***##***

The ocean was beautiful today. A darker color than it had been the past few days, the grays brought out more than the greens. It was a little harsher than usual, yes, and the sky was a rather boring shade of gray, but it was still nice. The darker colors were just as welcome as their vibrant counterparts.

Matthew wasn't sure how, but somehow he drifted off to sleep with the sound of the rain hitting the water and the water hitting the beach singing a lullaby.

***##***

He was asleep.

That was... concerning. The storm was going to arrive and the human simply slept on the shore.

Frowning, Gilbert waited, unable to do anything else without breaking the rules.

***##***

When the storm hit and the waves grew larger, Gilbert didn't move from the rock that had in the past two weeks or so become 'his,' didn't take his eyes off the fragile human that continued to sleep.

***##***

When the waves grew dangerously close, Gilbert ended up fighting with himself. Obey the rules or not? If he didn't obey, he was going to be in some serious trouble, but if he did, what would happen to the human?

Then one made it the final distance, ocean swallowing the blond, and all decisions were thrown to the currents.

***##***

He'd woken abruptly and panicked as he realized he was underwater and there was no air no air he couldn't _breathe _when a gentle but strong arm had grasped him around the waist and he was suddenly filled with a sense of calm and safety.

Then it all went black.

***##***

When Matthew came to, he was out of the reach of the ocean by several meters with an unfamiliar hand running through his hair. Bemused, he reached back into his mind, only to find the memory of a warm body and lots of water, panic followed by security.

Opening his eyes, he blinked a few times to clear his eyelashes of most of the sea salt that encrusted them. "W-who are you..."

The hand stopped, and there was a long pause before a (slightly blurred, he must not be wearing his glasses) bright smile belonging to a man with messy, wet white hair and a single, bright red eye moved into his field of vision. "I'm Gilbert."

Matthew took a moment to digest this information, to store the name and voice of his (assumed) savior in his long term memory. It was a nice voice, harsh with a very faint, more northerly German accent, one that told of many years speaking English but also of the actual inability to completely pronounce things the way a native-speaker was. Matthew decided he liked it.

"I'm Matthew..."

And then darkness claimed his mind once again as the exhaustion of nearly drowning loomed up to meet him.

***##***

Matthew. That was a nice name.

Gilbert could only really, really hope that the other hadn't noticed things about him. Namely, that he was a fish from the waist down. That could certainly have taken some explaining. Not that he didn't like his tail. He'd been born with the thing, after all, in an undersea castle off the coast of Germany. The first few years of his life had been spent deep beneath the surface, never really bothering to wonder what - if anything - lay above. And then one day Gramps had taken him aside and revealed that there was another world up there, filled with people who had strange things called _legs _and who could do all manner of things.

They couldn't swim very well, but that didn't stop Gilbert from being absolutely fascinated.

What was the point of toes? They looked silly, but they had to do something, right? And what was that thing that one human was holding, that thing that opened and closed and had leaves of some material with marks on it that the human flipped through and examined intently? What was it for? Why did they build boats to go from place to place? What did _they _call places (he eventually found out the answer to this one, and was amazed to know they used the same words for things.)? Where did they go at night, when they all left the beach? What were the furry things they sometimes brought with them, the things that didn't have two legs but had _four? _Why did they do such silly things?

He'd always been naturally curious about, well, everything, and the rules that governed the undersea society and made it impossible to interact with humans made it impossible to get his answers. For every parallel he managed to draw out, there were half a dozen things that confused him.

He'd been sneaking to the surface for years, always looking, but never certain for what.

As he sat here and stared down at the peacefully-sleeping face of the blond, of _Matthew, _he couldn't help but remember half-open, trusting violet eyes. He had so many questions, and here was someone who could answer them. That was why he wanted to stay, right?

It had nothing at all to do with the fluttering that had started in his chest when he'd heard the boy's soft voice giving his (awesome) name.

... Right?

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he ceased petting the soft blond hair and shifted, moving away from Matthew and back towards the sea. It was difficult for him to move over land anyway (stupid rocks weren't making it much easier), but it should have been much less difficult without dragging an unconscious human behind him. Somehow, his mind wasn't letting him believe that it really was.

***##***

Matthew awoke on the beach feeling like he'd lost something. Groping around he determined that, physically, he'd lost his glasses. That wasn't so bad, he could get a new pair in about month and until then he'd just have to use the spare pair he kept in the kitchen. They were old, and as such didn't do nearly as much for his vision as the pair he'd lost, but at least he'd be able to see more than he could now.

Somehow, though, that didn't seem to be the whole story. Frowning, he picked his way carefully up the path and to the cottage, where he washed away the salt the ocean had decided to leave on him, changed into nightclothes, and crawled into bed.

That night he dreamed of out of focus smiles, a single eye dancing with almost childish excitement, and the ghost of a hand running through his hair.

***##***

The next morning Matthew woke up and decided that someone had indeed come to his rescue, someone who had left before he could give his thanks. Someone with a gorgeous smile...

Hold it. Where had that thought come from?

Shaking his head to clear it, the Canadian began to make breakfast, mixing together the ingredients for pancakes in the same bowl he used every morning.

He was probably quite fortunate the heavy clay container did not shatter when he dropped it.

"Gilbert..." Where had the name come from? He wasn't quite sure, but he knew it was probably the owner of the smile and the lone eye, the other one covered with a clean-looking scar - no jagged edges or puffy bits, just a diagonal line sealing the eye forever.

It seemed like an important name.

***##***

Gilbert was not sure why he didn't run away now, go find some other beach to lurk in (or better yet, figure out where the hell he was and get around to going home). He shouldn't be here, he shouldn't have revealed himself to Matthew like that.

Because now that he had, he wanted to know more about the boy than simply his name.

"Gilbert?"

The voice nearly made him jump out of his skin. Fighting the desire to simply swim over to the curious-sounding person he knew was Matthew, he poked his head around the rock, being extra-careful so that he wouldn't be seen this time.

"I hope that's your name, or at least that you exist and I'm not imagining this. Um... I just wanted to say thank you. You know, for saving me." There he stood, facing out to the ocean and just talking. It was rather sweet, how he wanted to say thanks even when he had no idea what was going on. "I feel kind of stupid standing here talking to an empty beach," Not empty, not really, but Matthew couldn't know that. "So, um, I'm going to go back to the cottage now. I guess if you're here you don't want me to find you. But thanks all the same. If you could leave the plate somewhere I can see it, that'd be great." And with that, he turned and walked up his rocky trail to the small building settled on the cliff.

Wait, plate?

Curious as ever, Gilbert waited until Matthew was out of sight and then a few minutes more before edging out from behind the rock so that he could see the entire beach. There, sitting a meter or so from the water, was a plate with some kind of food on it. Feeling an odd mixture of intrigued, confused, and - somehow - happy, he waited for another few minutes, then deemed it safe to reveal himself. Wiggling around, he managed to get himself up the beach and perched in a semi-comfortable (but feminine, he noted with some dismay) position, tail tucked neatly by his side. Land was awkward.

The food was flat and round and smelled awesome. He wondered vaguely what it was called as he examined one of the pieces.

He saw no reason why someone would poison something they weren't totally sure existed (and, in the case of existence, had saved their life), so he took a bite.

And then his brain blanked for a moment or so as he struggled to process the awesomeness that was this new food. It was... awesome. There was no other word for it. Fluffy and warm, it was a little plain (there had to be something sweet you could put on it...), but it was absolutely delicious.

It was also gone all too soon.

He really shouldn't stick around. He knew that, knew that this was a horrible, horrible idea.

But deep inside, he knew he was already falling for Matthew.

***##***

Matthew came back to the beach around sunset, and was moderately surprised to find the plate empty and set neatly on a particularly flat rock (idly, he noticed that with the plate there the rock became the perfect spot for a child's picnic, just large enough and close enough to the ground that two people could sit criss-cross-apple-sauce and share dinner). The lack of the pancakes could have been explained by any of the wildlife that hung around, but the plate...

He had left the plate nearly ten meters away, and this was quite clearly someone returning it to him.

But his path was the only one that led to this area of the beach - the rocks were just inconvenient enough that you couldn't cross from either side, which was probably why it hadn't been commercialized yet. And no one had come near that path. So that really only left...

The sea?

Gazing out as the sun dipped below the water and painted it a million shades of red and orange and purple, Matthew smiled softly, picked up the plate, and left the beach with a whispered 'Thank you.'

He completely missed the returned 'You're welcome.'

***##***

The next day when Matthew came back to the beach, book (Gilbert had figured out what it was called only after Matthew had yelled at the fluffy-white-thing-that's-name-kept-changing to stop trying to steal it) in hand, Gilbert watched him and weighed his options.

He could do what he should have done weeks ago and leave the secluded beach, figure out where he was, and finally go home.

He could simply stay here forever, only watching, following the rules and never interacting with Matthew.

Or...

Or he could say 'screw it' to the rules, and introduce himself. And then just go with whatever happened.

The last one sounded awesome. But it would definitely mean leaving behind everything he'd ever known, his entire family.

But... Matthew...

The blond was lying with his stomach on the rocky beach, head propped up on his elbows as he idly turned the pages of the book in front of him.

Gilbert had three methods of making choices (important ones, anyway). These three methods had served him well in the past, and he saw no reason to change them now. They were, in order of preference:

One - Get very, very drunk. Make decision, write it down, go over it in the morning. If it was even remotely related to what you were trying to decide, go with it.

Two - Get Ludwig to do it for you.

Three - Close your eyes and picture something shiny for about thirty seconds. Open your eyes and carry on with whatever comes to mind first.

He currently had no access to either alcohol or his younger brother, so that really left option three. No helping it.

Gilbert closed his eyes.

When he opened them, he was swimming towards the more visible part of the shore.

***##***

Matthew was totally absorbed in his book (the title of which was probably something cliche and sappy - quite similar to the plot - which was why he'd never tell anyone what he read in his spare time), not paying attention to anything but the words stamped out in black ink on the pages. Which meant he did not notice there was someone else on the beach until said someone tapped him on the shoulder.

Understandably, this startled him. Unfortunately for the blond, when lying on one's stomach it's a bit difficult to whirl around in shock. In Matthew's case, it involved accidentally flinging his book a few feet away, knocking his glasses askew, lightly kicking whoever had tapped him, and ultimately ending up supporting himself with his hands, staring down into a startled and strangely familiar lone red eye.

"Um, hi?"

Matthew continued to stare for a while, then blinked, realized where he was, and blushed a (rather adorable, in Gilbert's not-so-humble opinion) shade of scarlet. "A-ah! I'm very s-sorry, I didn't m-mean to kick you, it's just that you s-startled me an-"

"Calm down." The voice of the other was hauntingly familiar, and it served to stop the blond's stammering for a moment while he dug around in his memory. Crimson eye, perpetually mussed white hair, only the lightest touch of an accent...

"...G-gilbert...?"

The mouth that smiled so beautifully (even if his memory could only supply him with a fuzzy image due to the tragic lack of glasses at the time) smirked up at him. "The one and only. You're Mattie, right?"

"Matthew." He corrected automatically, before finally seeming to remember their position and quickly maneuver himself so he was no longer hovering above Gilbert. "And I still haven't thanked you for saving me. Not properly, anyway."

"Nah, Mattie, you did. The food was awesome, by the way."

Matthew blushed lightly at the compliment, not really noticing the blatant refusal to drop the nickname.

"The pancakes? Ah, they're just something my mom taught me to make..."

"Pancakes? Is that what they're called?"

This brought Matthew up short. "You... you'd never had pancakes before?"

"No." Gilbert looked a tad embarrassed all of the sudden. "We... don't have them, where I'm from."

"So where are you from? Your accent sounds German, but it's really faint." Pausing, the bespectacled blond realized something else. "And how _did _you get here, anyway? The only way is from the cottage or... the..."

"Sea. _Ja. _Little slow on the uptake there, are we Mattie?" The albino - who still hadn't moved from his sprawled out position on the beach - asked dryly. Propping himself up on his elbows to look at the human seated next to him in a vaguely childish position with his knees drawn halfway up to his chest, looking like someone had finally proved to him that his step brother's cousin wasn't crazy and that magical creatures did, in fact, exist.

Well, to be fair, someone kinda just had, but the point stands. He could still safely say that Arthur was totally mental, because _fairies _didn't exist.

"... I'm dreaming."

"Nope, I'm one hundred percent real." Gilbert smiled at him, finally sitting up all the way and tucking his tail neatly around him (he hated out feminine the position was, but dammit it was the only real way to stay balanced on land!), and held out his hand. "See?"

Hesitantly, Matthew reached forward and grasped the other's hand. It was... cold, a little, but that kinda made sense. Other than that, Gilbert's skin didn't feel too much different from a human's. His fingers were slightly longer than what was average for a human and his bone structure seemed more delicate, but the Canadian couldn't tell if that was from being a... merman... or simply because that was the way Gilbert was. Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, he smiled timidly at the other.

"W-well then... would you like me to make you some more pancakes?"

Gilbert's returning grin could have melted the entirety of iceberg that sunk the Titanic with its brilliance. "That would be awesome."

After a few moments of awkwardness and negotiation, Matthew lifted Gilbert bridal-style (something the albino insisted was demeaning, but Matthew countered that a fire-fighter's carry was more so and, since he lacked legs, piggybacking was out of the question) and started up the path.

***##***

Ludwig was worried.

This was a fairly normal state of affairs for Ludwig, especially when his brother was involved. Gilbert was always getting into trouble, and most people had trouble believing it when they found out who was the older of the two. But this time, Gilbert had surely outdone himself.

A week of no Gilbert was normal. So was two. Three may have been slightly pushing it, but was still explainable.

Six weeks was much less so.

He'd stayed in the Bay of Naples all those six weeks, trying to figure out where his brother had gone off to while finalizing all the talks without him (something that was easier than it should have been).

But now Gilbert was gone and he was worried. Especially because he'd just been informed by his fiancé's grandfather, the Emperor of the Mediterranean Sea, that his brother was no longer actually within the Mediterranean's waters. Ludwig felt that he had a right to be concerned about this, even if he had no idea how he was going to fix it.

He was agitatedly re-alphabetizing his files for the third time when his fiancé interrupted.

"Veee~! Luddy, guess what?"

Sighing lightly, he put down the files he was holding and swum gently over to the Italian. "_Ja_, Feliciano? Vat is it?"

"This came for you!"

The letter was a sorry thing, written on the merpeople's special 'paper' but apparently not with their ink. Fortunately, the ink that was used was decently waterproof, so it was only a bit of a challenge to read.

'_Lieber West,_

_Mir ist, du bist jetzt wohl beunruhigt. Tut mir Leid, ich habe den Überblick über die Zeit verloren. Sowieso… sag' dem Opa, ich geh' nicht wieder nach Hause. Du bist offenbar ein viel besserer Herrscher als ich je sein würde. Und jedenfalls… mir ist's, ich sollte lieber hier bleiben._

_Verstehst du, West, ich habe gegen die Regel verstossen…'_

Smiling faintly, the imposing German folded the letter neatly and set it down on the desk. "Dat idiot..."

"Ve? Luddy, what's wrong?" Feli hovered over him, looking slightly worried. "Is Gilbert-nii okay?"

"Gilbert is fine. More dan dat, hopefully." He gently ruffled the shorter merman's hair, before searching his desk for a pen. "I need to vrite a ledder..."

***##***

The little bird was not used to carrying this much stuff. Letters were fine, it could deal with letters, but _packages?_ That was just asking a little too much.

Granted, the package had been spelled to be feather-light, but that didn't make the size of the thing any less awkward. It had been blown off course at least four times so far.

Arriving at the house, the bird found the windows closed.

Typical.

Just as it was contemplating flinging the package through the window to see if it kept being feather-light when it was not touching him, the glass raised and a head of messier than usual hair was shoved out the window and looked around for a moment, spotting the bird.

"Ah, hey, Gilbird! You're back!"

The fluffy yellow creature metaphorically rolled its eyes. Its real name was unpronounceable by a non-avian, but that didn't mean its master had to supply such a stupid substitute.

... Oh, well, at least his was remembered, unlike the poor polar bear's.

In revenge for the stupid name, it dropped the package on Gilbert's head instead of setting it down gently. The box made a satisfying 'twump'ing noise, proving that it did indeed loose any feather-light qualities when released.

"OW. Not awesome."

But the albino was already distracted by opening the package, and so the bird was free to simply perch on the windowsill and take a break after its long flight.

***##***

Noise was something Matthew had gotten used to in a week of living with Gilbert. They'd settled into an odd routine that somehow seemed completely right, and that routine often included a lot of noise.

This didn't, however, mean that Matthew was used to waking up to Gilbert shouting out the window at his bird. Probably because this was the first time it had happened. Rolling over to the other's side of the bed (closer to the wall, and therefor next to the window), he sat up and reached around for his glasses.

"What is it, eh?"

Startled, the albino turned around. "Oh, Mattie, you're awake!" (Try as he might, Matthew couldn't get Gilbert to drop the nickname, and it had unfortunately stuck. Seriously, what was wrong with 'Matthew?' Pretty much _everyone _insisted on picking a nickname for him) "Glibird's finally back. West sent me a package."

"... West?"

"My not-as-awesome-as-me younger brother. Didn't I mention him?"

"Um. No."

"Oh. Whatever."

_'Gilbert-_

_Du kommst nicht mit, das tut mir Leid. Aber ich bin davon überzeugt, wir werden uns noch mehrmals begegnen. Das ist mein Unglück. Im Paket ist bessere Tinte und besseres Papier als du hattest—und auch ein Geschenk vom Grossvater. Er will, dass ich dir sage, wenn du …'_

Leaning over Gilbert's shoulder, Matthew frowned. "I can't read this."

"Of course you can't, it's in German." Already not paying attention to what he had just been doing, the albino began to rummage around in the box, tossing a few odd-looking pens and a stack of paper the same consistency as the letter (that now lay all but forgotten on the pillow) on the comforter, before triumphantly pulling out what looked - for all intents and purposes - to be a pearl necklace. "Found it! Alright, Mattie, let's go!"

"Eh? Go where?"

Gilbert was already replacing things in the box and setting it on the wide windowsill, moving off the bed and dragging the blond with him in pretty much the same motion. "To the ocean! Gramps wants to meet you!"

"... What...?"

"C'mon!" Not offering any further explanations in his excitement, the merman tugged impatiently (though to be honest, Gilbert was rarely very patient) on the sleeve of Matthew's pajamas. "Kuma-whoever and Gilbird'll be find for a few hours, but we need to _go. _Trust me, you really don't wanna be late with Gramps. It's not awesome."

Muttering under his breath about albinos who didn't tell people anything, Matthew quickly changed into day cloths and scooped up Gilbert, kicking the door gently to shut it as they left the cottage.

Once they arrived at the beach, Gilbert looped the necklace around Matthew's neck without warning.

"Ack! Gil, seriously, wha-" But he was cut off as the mermaid yanked gently on the string of pearls.

"It's to let you breathe. Now seriously, we need to get there in like five minutes so, c'mon!"

Slightly hesitantly, Matthew waded out into the water, plopping Gilbert down and allowing the slightly-older man to take his hand and guide him out to sea, under the waves.

***##***

"Gilbert. _Du bist verspätet." _It was honestly just like his _bruder _to show up late for what would possibly be the most important meeting in quite a while. A moment later, he noticed the blond clinging to Gilbert's hand and looking completely overwhelmed, and correctly surmised that this was the infamous Matthew, the one Gilbert was content to leave the sea for. "Ahh, you are Matthew, righd?"

The blond shrunk a little more behind Gilbert and nodded. So he was shy... but then, Ludwig was a pretty imposing person...

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he smiled (in what he hoped was a reassuring manner) at Matthew and led the two of them a little further out into the ocean, to where Lord Germania waited.

***##***

"I think that went well."

Matthew glared at the mermaid who was cheerfully towing him along. Underwater he couldn't say anything, but he could glare empathetically.

Glancing over, Gilbert grimaced. "Don't give me that look. Gramps actually seemed to like you. He _smiled. _I haven't seen him do that in _years. _ad"

"Dat may have been because Roma was dere, but _ja. _I agree vid Gilbert. It is nod someting dat happens often, bud he seems to be right."

"Seriously, Mattie, relax. Gramps will do a lot if Rome asks him - the mans pout is absolutely impossible to ignore. And Rome will do anything Feli pouts for, and Feli likes you."

"Ve~ Gilbert-nii is right! Matteo is very nice! _E molto carino!"_

Blushing, Matthew nodded. It seemed that only Gilbert's older brother (whose name was not, in fact, 'West' but was a much more normal-sounding Ludwig) was the only one who actually called him by his own name, which was a comfort. One couldn't help but feel endearment toward Feliciano, who was simply composed of smiles, rainbows, and sunshine, seemingly no matter what happened. Really, the only problems he had with the whole arrangement was the fact that Gilbert had broken the rules in the first place.

Not that he wasn't happy things had turned out the way they did, but he felt slightly uncomfortable with the fact that he really shouldn't know any of them existed at all.

So by now, he had to admit, all he was nervous about was if Gilbert's grandfather would be supportive or not. His own family would not mind - and Francis in particular would probably be estatic - but that didn't make the whole ordeal any less nerve-wracking.

Fifteen minutes later, Ludwig and Feliciano went back to the area of the bay they had used to meet the two lords, leaving Matthew and Gilbert to sit there and be nervous. Five minutes after that saw the hyper Italian hugging poor Matthew to death while Ludwig informed Gilbert that everything was now apparently alright, they had agreed to let the two be together, and that Rome said they should return to land _'quam celerimus.'_

***##***

"Matheu! _Mon petit cher, _where are you?" A tall blond, accompanied by a shorter blond and a brunet of about the same height, walked up the stone path that led to the cottage.

The door opened just as he reached it to reveal a sleepy-looking Matthew, still clad in pyjamas, with glasses slightly off-center on his nose. "... Francis? What are you doing here?" Pausing for a moment, he glanced over at the horizon where the sun had only just made itself known. "And why have you come so early?"

Francis pouted quite dramatically. "Am I no longer allowed to visit my favorite cousin? Such a tragedy! Ah, but I am not 'ere for me, Matheu, I am 'ere because I thought you would like to join my companions and I on an adventure."

There was a long moment while Matthew stared blankly at the three of them. "... I'm sorry, but could you repeat that?"

"It will be wonderful!" The brunet piped up. After a moment of trying to place him, Matthew realized that he was Antonio, Francis's friend who visited most summers when they stayed with Grandfather Gaul. "We will sail to distant lands and eat delicious tomatoes and have lots of fun!"

Realizing something, the Canadian turned to the shorter blond. "Arthur? What's going on?"

"_Cher? _'ow do you you know Arthur?"

"He's Al's cousin." Catching onto the fact that Francis was not making the connection. "Alfred. My step brother." Turning his attention back to Arthur, he waited for his answer.

Which came in the form of a non-comital shrug. "I have no idea. Honestly, we seem to be putting together a pirate crew. One that will probably end up broke since no one particularly wants to hurt anyone."

Pausing for a moment, Matthew looked at each one in turn. It was true - they didn't seem out to hurt anyone. Antonio didn't look like he could harm much of anything - too many smiles for that - he knew from growing up with the man that Francis was mostly harmless except for the fact that he would hit on essentially anything moving, and Arthur really only seemed to be inclined to hit and yell at people he was around on a regular basis who were being stupid.

"Let me ask Gilbert."

"Who? Matheu, have you been seeing someone?"

Turning halfway back from re-entering the house, he replied over his shoulder. "Yeah. I'll introduce you, so you may as well come in, eh."

Leaving his guests seated at the kitchen table, Matthew slipped through the door into the bedroom to find Gilbert awake and finishing getting dressed.

"Oh, hey Mattie. Who's here?"

"Just my pervert of a cousin, my step-brother's slightly more normal cousin, and my cousin's absurdly cheerful friend. Or partner in crime. Whichever." Since Gilbert was already awake, Matthew was able to skip the waking-him-up stage and simply search through his dresser for clothing that kinda matched. He ended up just pulling on khakis and a long-sleeved red shirt.

"Really? Why?"

"They're trying to form a pirate crew, and want me to join for some reason."

"... Is this a human thing?"

Turning, Matthew looked at his boyfriend, confused. "Pirates? Surely you had something like them..."

"No, the nonchalantness of the whole idea of this."

"No, that's just a 'my crazy family' thing, eh."

"That makes more sense. So, are you gonna take them up on the offer?"

Matthew shrugged. "I guess. I mean, if you want to. Though I'm not sure what you'd do after school starts and I have to go to work, so this might actually be a good career path." He paused for a moment before realizing the absurdity of his statement. "Or something, anyway."

"I'd... like to, I think." Gilbert blushed a little as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "Being close to the sea is nice still, and there's not a whole lot closer you can get than a boat when you can't actually live in it anymore."

"Alright then. That's settled." The blond smiled and turned toward the taller albino, pecking him lightly on the cheek and slipping their hands together. "Shall we?"

"Let's shall."

And so Gilbert met Matthew's pervert of a cousin, his step-brother's slightly more normal cousin, and his cousin's absurdly cheerful friend. Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio immediately hit it off, no one seemed to notice the slightly odd rolling motion the one-eyed man walked with, and plans were made over breakfast about where they would sail first.

And the rest, as they say, was history.

***#End#***

TRANSLATIONS

_'Ja' _- German - 'Yes'

_''Lieber West,__Mir ist, du bist jetzt wohl beunruhigt. Tut mir Leid, ich habe den Überblick über die Zeit verloren. Sowieso… sag' dem Opa, ich geh' nicht wieder nach Hause. Du bist offenbar ein viel besserer Herrscher als ich je sein würde. Und jedenfalls… mir ist's, ich sollte lieber hier bleiben. Verstehst du, West, ich habe gegen die Regel verstossen… _- German - '"Dear West, I bet you're pretty worried right now. Sorry about that, I lost track of time. Anyway, tell Gramps I won't be going back home. You make a much better ruler than I'd ever be, and in any case, I feel like I belong here more. You see, West, I've broken the rules..."

_'Du kommst nicht mit, das tut mir Leid. Aber ich bin davon überzeugt, wir werden uns noch mehrmals begegnen. Das ist mein Unglück. Im Paket ist bessere Tinte und besseres Papier als du hattest—und auch ein Geschenk vom Grossvater. Er will, dass ich dir sage, wenn du …' _- German - 'I am sorry to hear you won't be coming back, but I am sure we will meet repeatedly. It's my misfortune. There's better ink and paper than what you had in the package, as well as a gift from Grandfather. He says to tell you that if you...'

_'Du bist verspätet.' _- German - 'You are late'

_'bruder' _- German - 'brother'

_'E molto carino!' _- Italian - 'And very pretty!'

_'quam celerimus' _- Latin - 'with great speed/haste'

'_Mon petit cher' - _French - 'My little dear/darling/general term of endearment'

NOTES

Gilbert strikes me as an extremely inquisitive person, which is why he starts sounding a bit like Ariel from the Little Mermaid after a while. He can't help but poke his nose places he knows he shouldn't, and the idea of a whole other world existing just out of reach only wants to make him find out more.

I also see Gilbird as just kind of putting up with all of Gilbert's craziness, but not necessarily encouraging it. XD

'Gaul' (Latin - _Gallia_) is the Roman name for area that is now France. Gaul consisted of a bunch of rag-tag tribes who were Celts but are often forgotten when people think of Celts (people tend to remember Irish, Scottish, and possibly English, but fewer - in America anyway - seem to realize that Wales and Gaul were also Celtic). I figure that if Francis Mattie's cousin in this AU, and Gaul is my head-cannon is France's grandfather (similar to how Rome is the grandfather of the Italies), he must also be related to Canada. LOGIC. (yeah, not really).

Bonus points if you can figure out where Gilbert's last line is from. 8D

**A parting question: I'm considering doing another (probably much shorter) oneshot in this AU, perhaps a series of them if I get enough ideas. Would you be interested in reading these, and are there any pairings you'd like to see in the future?**


End file.
